our gravity is the most natural kind
by emilyforprez
Summary: all life follows the rule of gravity.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **So over on Fanforum, I made a promise to write a Delena multi-chapter fic during this hiatus. And so I will.

* * *

He doesn't expect to see this; of all scenarios, he didn't want to see Katherine standing with John's body sprawled over her feet, human blood soaking the ground. He doesn't expect to have to stand in front of Elena, protecting her, saving her. He doesn't want to think. He just wants her gone.

"Hello, Damon."

Damon's eyes are dark and downcast as she speaks, each movement a subtle twitch of his muscles. The details come to him gradually: the blood pooling at Katherine's feet, the scent of it thick in the air, the malicious look in her eyes. And Elena, pressed against the wall, fear-scent etched in a cloud around her.

For the moment, all he sees is Katherine. All he knows is that it isn't Elena.

"Katherine." To Damon's credit, he doesn't flinch, and his voice is cool and collected. He smirks at her, unwilling to let her see his disappointment. His fear. "There _was_ something... _off_ about Elena." He straightens his shoulders, casts a quick glance at said girl behind him. She's watching him, her eyes masked.

Katherine cocks her head to the side as a predatory measure, sizing him up. "Move aside, Damon." The voice is filled with such coldness, Damon knows his life is teetering by a string. "I might let you live if you do."

"Nah." He awaits the pain as it comes; her head snaps to the side once more and before he can blink, she's on him, snarling with rage. He doesn't close his eyes. He's perfectly fine. Perfectly, wonderfully fine.

"What happened to you?" The words are whispered fiercely into his ear.

"I grew up," he hisses back, until she can hear him quite clearly. "You left and I grew _up._" He shoves her back, relishing in her shock as she stumbles. The satisfaction doesn't last long, and with it comes cold dread, as if he's aware this is the end of everything he's been running from.

Katherine meets Elena's eyes. He can hear her breathing grow quick and shallow, and he wants to help her; but he's done enough. "You're in _love_ with her." Katherine says it as if it's a curse, something she wishes to vanquish. "And she _looks like me._" The way she says it is pure fury. He can't find any other word to describe it.

"She isn't _you_." Damon knows this; he's seen it. "She's not a cold bitch with nothing else to do but toy with people."

He awaits another attack; he awaits the pain of a knife in his chest, or something equally as unpleasant. But there is nothing, only the clear picture of anger on Katherine's face, and the fear rolling off Elena in waves. Damon pushes her back again.

"Go. Leave. Don't _ever_ come back." It's wishful thinking, to hope to persuade Katherine to leave if she didn't want to. He doesn't even know if he wants her to leave. The way she smells is the same, with an elusive perfume and something else, something wonderful. He... doesn't love her anymore. Not love. But... want. He wants her. He wants answers. He wants to know why she left.

Katherine's mouth twists into a smirk. "Leave?" She casts a pointed glance back at Elena. "No, no... I think I'll stay. It could get interesting around here."

Damon opens his mouth to protest, but within the moment, Katherine flashes to the side, shattering the window as she leaps from the house. "Goodbye, Damon." The way her voice trills the words - the way she says it in a mocking way - makes him so unbelievably... nostalgic.

"Damon..." Elena's voice is pleading and sad and everything he doesn't want to hear right now. It's full of pity and fear.

"Why weren't you more careful?" Damon snarls. The blood-scent around John's body is still thick in the air, filling his head with want. He has to control it. "Why did you have to put yourself in danger like that?" He wants to hate her right now.

Terror envelopes her face. "Damon, your eyes..." She doesn't answer him the way he wants.

He can feel his features shifting, the hunger overwhelming him. He hasn't fed since... before the fire. He's starving.

In the next heartbeat, Damon lets go of her, turning away to control himself. This isn't him. He's calm, collected, always in the clear with his hunger. "I should go. I need to... I need to go. Now would be a good time to disappear."

Elena makes a soft, piteous sound in her throat. "What if she comes to your place?" He can hear her thoughts churning. "We have to call Stefan and get him here. She won't come back if -"

"She doesn't _want_ Stefan," Damon mumbles, in a voice that isn't his own. "She wants _me. _Stefan is, whatever... she loved him." _Not me. Not me. Loved Stefan, didn't love me. Who could? _"She wants to torture me, and kill you, and get Stefan back because... she doesn't want me."

"Damon..."

He stares at John's body, wondering how he could ever explain this to Stefan. _If _he could.

Elena's hand brushes against his, in a gesture of thanks and welcome.

"Stay," she says. "I'll call Stefan."

He closes his eyes and feels the tears prick behind the eyelids. He doesn't reply, not even a thank-you. His body is cold and stiff and frigid as if he's been dropped into icy water. What will happen, he wonders, when Katherine comes back for Elena?

Will he be able to protect her?

(His worst fear is that he can't.)


	2. Chapter 2

"How are we going to deal with her?"

The way the words come out, in such a habitual way, makes Damon want to scream. He'd been silent for some time, watching and listening as Stefan and Elena plotted to destroy Katherine, but he came to realize there is nothing he could say. And so he sits, and listens. He wants to forget he ever loved her.

Elena watches him from the corner of her eye - he sees it, even if she doesn't want him to. There's worry there, fear; care. She wants to know if he's alright.

He doesn't quite know himself.

_Katherine's back._

The words are odd and fuzzy; he doesn't know what to make of it. For so long, all he's done is search for her. All he's done is hope she's out there, looking for him, or that she'll come back to him somehow. They'd reunite with a kiss and it would be... it would be perfect.

Damon clenches his fists angrily.

It's not how it was going to be.

"Damon?" From the tone of voice, he guesses Stefan had asked him a question but had received no reply. Damon looks up, attempting to visualize indifference. Inside, his heart is beating thundrously, and he wants to scream out loud.

_Katherine's back! She's here, she's beautiful, oh, and I love -_

"What do you think she's here for?" asks Elena. Her voice is softer and more docile; she doesn't want to scare him away. He wonders what his face must look like. Does he look frightened? Angry? Excited? He doesn't know what he's feeling; how could he know what he projected?

He closes his eyes and memories are there. Katherine, smiling at him. Katherine, her wrist slit open and blood pooling on her pale skin. _"Drink,"_ she says. _"And I will turn you. Only you."_

He could've imagined no better life than to remain by her side forever.

"I don't..." Damon doesn't know how he can even manage to be sitting there. His eyes are downcast, their icy blue color reduced to a dull, slate gray. He didn't think it was possible to want Katherine still, after all she'd done to him, after all the heartache she'd caused. He swallows thickly. "Maybe she's here for me." The hopefulness in his tone isn't lost on Stefan and Elena. They glance at each other uneasily.

Damon looks up. "What if she wants me back?" he whispers.

Stefan says nothing. How could he?

Elena looks away. There is nothing to be said.

In the darkness of his mind, Damon wonders. He reaches out to her, hoping to feel her presence. _I don't love you._

He doesn't. It must be true.

_But I want you to love me._

She can't hear a word he says, but perhaps it's more for his sake than hers.

_I want answers, Katherine._

_

* * *

_

"How's he holding up?"

It's Elena's voice. Damon is huddled in his bed, hiding from his problems like a child. He wants to be a child; times were so much more simpler back then. It would be cruel to leave his dear brother and his... _Elena_ unsafe and open downstairs, but for the moment, he wants to feel peace.

He can hear Stefan's neck cracking, as if he's rolling his shoulders. "He's..." A pause. "He's not as good as he'd like to think he is."

Damon's eyes are closed. He breathes. It's all he can do, is breathe. Elena can't know; Katherine can't know. If anything, Stefan is only guessing.

_I want you to love me._

Damon can practically hear Elena's upset frown. "I'm worried about him," she confesses to Stefan. "He's been waiting for her for so long..." There's another heavy pause, filled with words that should be left unsaid. "He's been searching for her, and here she just _is._"

"It's not going to affect him so much," Stefan reassures her. "He'll be fine. He's Damon, the self-serving psychopath, remember? He's going to get past this."

Irritation rolls off Elena in waves. Damon can smell it; she's irked with Stefan's calm way of assuring her, she's worried for Damon, she's anxious and upset and scared. The worst part is her fear; Damon can sense it more than smell it. It's everywhere, cloaking the musky scent of the home with its tangy odor.

"You will be the death of me." Damon says this to no one in particular; Katherine or Elena, the words could be for either.

_I want answers._

There are footsteps up the stairs. He exhales softly, allowing his eyes to remain shut for only a heartbeat. "Damon?" comes Elena's voice, hesitant yet unafraid, as if she's more worried she'd come across Damon's dead body than his anger. She stands at the doorway, watching him.

Damon cocks his head to the side. "What are you looking at?" The voice isn't hostile, though he initially intended it to be. It is slightly curious; maybe wondrous. "You can take a picture. I won't show up in it, but it'll still show my lovely headboard."

Elena's eyes are soft now. She wants to help; he can see it, feel it, hear it. Every part of her is vibrating with the need to make him feel better.

"I like this headboard." He knocks slowly on the oak wood, whistling quietly under his breath. "Vintage."

"Are you okay?" Elena blurts, deciding to come out with it at last. She looks embarrassed, but not ashamed - what he could come to expect from her. "I know you've been searching for... Katherine... for so long, and -"

"I'm perfectly fine." Damon's words are cold and hard and defiant and they come out too fast to be true.

Elena's face contorts into a mask of frigid indifference, yet he knows she's worried.

_Don't worry about me.  
_

"Okay." She pauses, as if she wants to say more. "Katherine..." She inhales a shallow breath. "She isn't me, right? She has nothing to do with me? Just relation, right?"

Damon closes his eyes. Katherine is selfish. She's complicated - he remembers it well. She's uncaring, indifferent, cruel, sadistic, masochistic. Every word he could find in the thesaurus near "bitch" would suffice. Elena is... caring. She felt things. She loved.

"You're nothing like Katherine." He means it this time.

(He imagines what would happen if it had been Elena on the doorstep, and not Katherine. He wonders if that kiss would've happened at all. If he'd be this upset in the morning. But all he can feel is numbness crippling his tendons. Katherine's back. Things were so much more simpler when she wasn't.)


End file.
